


An Unexpected Dragonborn

by A_Midwinter_Night_Dream86



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Gen, Humor, John Watson replaces Bilbo Baggins, Parody, Pop Culture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-10-24 20:29:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17711039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Midwinter_Night_Dream86/pseuds/A_Midwinter_Night_Dream86
Summary: A dragon rests upon an ancient treasure hoard within the halls of Erebor, the Lonely Mountain...Who could be better than the Dragonborn to help slay him?Out of the blue, Leara Rose-blade shows up in the Shire, Ulfric Stormcloak in tow, to aid Thorin's Company on their journey. Along the way, not only will they battle goblins, orcs, and the minions of Sauron, but also werewolves, (more) dragons, and other things.The Dragonborn is in Middle-earth, and with her, Nirn bleeds through.





	1. An Unexpected Dragonborn

**Author's Note:**

> This is An Unexpected Dragonborn, an ongoing crossover project I've been working on off and on for the last five years. Some of the early stuff might seem dated or childish, but I'm slowly going back through and editing it. It picks up around chapter ten, I promise! Anyway, the story isn't finished, but I wrote the last word to chapter fifty this morning and decided, "What the heck!" I might as well share it, right?
> 
> So, what happens when the Dragonborn arrives on the doorstep of Bag-End, having broken the Fourth Wall to get there? Well, read on to find out...

_**Chapter One — An Unexpected Dragonborn** _

Bilbo Baggins of Bag-End had had it.

There were dwarves all over his beloved Hobbit hole! Thirteen of them! And they'd cleared out his entire pantry of food! He'd have to make at least six trips to the market to make it halfway decent again!

"Gandalf, tell me that no one else is coming!" Bilbo begged the tall grey wizard.

"Well...I believe everyone is here," the wizard informed him.

Before Bilbo could sigh in slight relief, there was a thunderous knock on the door. Startled, the Hobbit went to answer it as all the dwarves filed into the foyer and gathered round.

Bilbo opened the door to reveal a lightly golden skinned she-elf with dark reddish brown hair and crystal blue eyes. Kinda like if Boromir (who no one knows yet because his father is only about nine at the moment) was a girl and an elf. She wore strange armor (Akaviri if you must know) and had a glowing ebony longsword. A lavender Magelight shimmered above her head and she smiled maniacally.

"Hi! I'm Leara Rose-blade! I heard you guys were hunting a dragon and I decided to travel from my home far away to help." She had what we would call a British accent, more accurately, a London accent, even though London and Britain don't exist.

"How do you know of our top secret quest?" demanded Thorin Oakenshield, the majestic leader of the not-so-majestic quest.

"Well, I was visiting with my friend and mentor Paarthurnax when he mentioned that he had heard of the evil dragon Smaug who had stolen your mountain. I did some investigating and found out that dwarves were leading the quest. I've never met a dwarf before! They all disappeared from where I live. Calcemo would be so jealous!"

"And Calcemo is...?" Gandalf prompted when Leara Rose-blade seemed to be finished speaking.

"He's my high elven wizard buddy who's obsessed with dwarves!"

"Dear Mahal..." Dwalin muttered

"Disturbing on so many levels..." Glóin whispered.

"I am 170% done," Bilbo said. "Out of my house!"

Suddenly everyone was outside (except for Bilbo, of course). It was cold and dark despite the fact that it was almost May.

Suddenly (again), a blonde guy with fancy warrior clothes made of fur and leather came running up. "Leara...don't run...off...and...leave me at that...inn with...with a bunch of...of short and strange people!" he gasped in a voice rather similar to Thorin's in range and frequency.

"Oh Ulfric! I was gonna come back for you!" Leara smiled, patting the poor guy on the shoulder.

Everyone stared at them.

"This is Ulfric Stormcloak! He and Oak-y over there are very similar in many ways down to the fact that they both really don't like elves. Except Stormy here doesn't hate me cos I saved his butt a million times too many. The two even have that one elf they detest above all others!" Leara rattled off.

"Wow, you really do investigate when you say you investigate!" Kíli exclaimed. "I wanna be just like you!"

"Chill bro, just chill," Fíli said, doing the weird "stay down" gesture that is typically used for dogs with his hands.

"How exactly do you propose killing the dragon?" Balin asked.

This time Ulfric answered them, "Leara is the Dragonborn, the ultimate dragon slayer. She kills dragons on a near daily basis. She has dragon skulls decorating her house. She even hangs out with this one nice dragon on top of this mountain. She also saved the whole world from the World Eating dragon Alduin. She has dragon blood which allows her to use the dragon language in spectacular ways. Leara uses this shout called Dragonrend which knocks dragons out of the sky and forcing them to land. She lives and breathes 'DRAGON'."

The word 'dragon' hung heavy in the air.

"So...let us now be off!" Leara Rose-blade said. She then gave the Company, Gandalf, and Ulfric an expectant glance.

"Um...we don't have any mode of transportation," Bofur said. And this was true since the ponies they would have gotten haven't been brought up from the South Farthing yet.

"Um...idea!" Leara screamed, causing several Hobbits in Hobbiton to fall over screaming "Nazgûl! Nazgûl!".

"Leara, please don't..."

"What's she going to do?"

"She's—"

"OD AH VIING!"

"What did she say?"

"Well..."

"Wait — what's that—?"

Suddenly, with a noise like a hurricane, a great red dragon (ironically the same color and size as Smaug, just with more horns on his head) came down upon them.

"DRAGON!"

"DRAGON!"

"MUMMY SAVE ME!"

Everyone glanced at Dwalin but otherwise continued screaming.

"Odahviing!" cried a happy Leara Rose-blade as she hugged the very embarrassed Dovah on the muzzle.

"Dovahkiin, why have you summoned me this time? I'm not going to pose as your father so you can get into that bar in Elsweyr...again," Odahviing said by way of greeting.

"No, Odahviing, I just need you to help carry fifteen others and myself to Erebor. You know, that place your baby brother took over," Leara Rose-blade explained.

"Holy Mahal's hammer! Not only have you called a dragon upon us but it's Smaug's older brother? You have brought our doom upon us all, you she-elf witch!" Thorin cried, stomping his feet.

Odahviing and Leara stared at him and Ulfric and Gandalf face palmed in unison.

"So..." Odahviing looked back at the high elf. "I can only carry about five or six. You should call the other two."

Leara Rose-blade nodded thoughtfully, staring at the Company, the Jarl of Eastmarch, and Gandalf. She then turned and her voice shook the foundations of Arda and Nirn themselves, in whatever weird way they're connected.

"PAAR THUR NAX! DUR NEH VIIR!"

Suddenly, like a thunder battle and the smashing of mountains upon mountains, two more dragons came down from the sky.

"KUN OKAAZ PEYT TUZ!" cried a happy Durnehviir, shouting Leara Rose-blade's name as it appeared in the dragon tongue. He happily nudged the Dragonborn with his muzzle and she patted his nose.

All the dwarves fell over from the sheer force of the undead dragon's happy shout, but Gandalf remained upright. He and Paarthurnax regarded each other with furrowed brows.

"Kunokaaz Peyttuz?" Ulfric asked, getting to his feet.

"Shut up, stupid face," Leara told him.

"Why have you summoned us? Kunokaaz? I was in the middle of 'Eragon'," Paarthurnax questioned, looking from the wizard to the elf.

"That movie sucked," Nori whispered to Dori and Ori.

"I speak of the book," Paarthurnax told them and the three Ri brothers fell over again out of terror.

"I'm sorry, my master, but I need you to assist me in carrying these dwarves to the Lonely Mountain so we can deal with Smaug," Leara explained.

Paarthurnax nodded in thought. "Yes...Dibella and Arkay's son is cranky." He then glared at Odahviing. "You should take better care of your siblings!"

The red dragon huffed, catching Óin and Glóin's beards on fire. As the two tried to stamp out the flames, Odahviing spoke, "I was busy at the time, dealing with that fellow with the blue box."

Ulfric blinked, "He came and bothered you too? He tried to take all the Dunmer kids from the Grey Quarter! I-"

"Shut up, stupid face!" Leara Rose-blade snapped.

"I say, do you really think these dragons can carry us all to Erebor?" Gandalf inquired of the high elf.

Leara shrugged, "I suspect so."

"No! I will not ride on a dragon with an elf! I would rather—" Gandalf hit Thorin on the head with his staff and the dwarf king fell over, unconscious.

"Ooh! I haven't seen a dwarf fall over in ages!" Durnehviir laughed. He poked Thorin with his right fore claw but the dark haired dwarf refused to move.

"Okay...now let us be off!" Leara Rose-blade exclaimed, striking a valiant pose.

·•*°*•·


	2. Thorin and the Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leara and Company finally set off on their quest. This goes as well as can be expected.

_**Chapter Two — Thorin and the Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Start** _

Our Altmeri Heroine, along with her moody Jarl sidekick, Gandalf, Thorin the Majestically Unconscious, Kíli Not Cool, and Fíli Not Cool Either all got cozy on Paarthurnax. The Ri brothers, Balin, and Dwalin all got on Durnehviir, abate they were uncomfortable because he's somewhat undead. Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Óin, and Glóin had to squeeze on Odahviing (because Bombur is fat and Óin is fidgety).

Fifteen minutes after Leara's valiant exclamation, the three dragons carrying thirteen dwarves, one high elf of Altmeri origin, a wizard dressed in a color fitting every fashion season, and a Nord who may or may not be (is) blond took off.

They flew through the air for a while before something unmerciful befell them: Thorin, woke up and started whining.

"I don't like dragons or elves or blond people!"

"Shut up!"

"Thorin, do behave!"

"Hey!" After Leara and Gandalf, Ulfric and Fíli now took the time to look insulted.

"Fíli...you're not a people," an unhelpful Kíli told his blond headed brother.

Suddenly, everyone's stomachs fell from under their ribcages and plummeted to the wilderness below.

Well...

In all actuality, the three dragons tucked in their wings and they themselves plummeted to the earth and everyone else fell off of their backs.

"AHH!"

"AHH!"

"MUMMY!"

"UNCLE SHEO!"

"EEK!"

"GALMAR! MY TEDDY BEAR!"

"MOOSE!"

The party of sixteen human-esque people tumbled into a large pile of brambles. Well, Leara used a Shout and caught herself in midair before drifting down on to a bed of moss. Gandalf, in turn, landed like a cat on its feet.

Everybody else fell in a tangled, messy heap.

"Paarthurnax!" Leara Rose-blade whined, looking up at the grey-white dragon hovering above her.

"I heard the timer dinging on my sweetrolls," Paarthurnax wailed with remorse.

"Seriously?" Ulfric asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeperuni!" Paarthurnax exclaimed, nodding his massive head.

"My butt hurts," Kili groaned.

"My jacksie hurts."

"My ar—"

"THORIN! SHUT YER TRAP!" Leara screamed at the dwarf king, causing him to stumble backwards in shock.

"Uh, Kunokaaz, my time of summons is almost up!" Durnehviir wept, causing great drops of steaming tears to fall on the dwarves, sending them running around in chaos.

"I'm sorry, bud, I'll call you back later," Leara Rose-blade soothed, petting his neck.

Durnehviir nodded his gratitude before, with a boom and a plume of green smoke, he vanished.

"That is intriguing. However do you summon them?" Gandalf asked, coming up beside the Dragonborn.

Leara shrugged, "Uh...oh...oh, it's magic, you know."

While they spoke, Paarthurnax took off, leaving them with just Odahviing. The thirteen dwarves and Ulfric stared at him and he stared back.

None of them blinked.

"Where are we?" Leara Rose-blade asked Gandalf, both oblivious to their awkward companions.

"I believe we're in the Trollshaws," Gandalf told her after looking around for a moment.

"Trollshaws, eh? I suppose that means trolls and ogres live in these parts?"

"The trolls live up in the northern hills and scarcely come this far southward. I don't think there are any ogres though," Gandalf explained, gesturing with his hands and staff.

"Really? Remind me to tell you guys the story of how my grandma killed a bunch of Trolls made of paint," Leara giggled, cracking up.

"That sounds most interesting, Miss Rose-blade."

"It was, and—"

"ODAHVIING! SPIT THORIN OUT RIGHT NOW!"

Leara and Gandalf turned to see Odahviing sitting in the typical dragon sitting position with something dangling out of his mouth.

On closer inspection, it was everything above Thorin Oakenshield's knees.

"Odahviing!" Leara Rose-blade cried, running forward and yanking on the dwarf's boots.

You see, while the Altmer and the Istar had been conversing, Thorin, trying to be majestic and impressive, had tried to banish Odahviing with his sword.

Odahviing had then attempted to eat him.

Fíli and Kíli thought it was funny. Everyone else...not so much. Thus leading to Ulfric's outburst which had drawn Leara and Gandalf's attention, leading to Leara trying to pull Thorin out of the red Dovah's giant maw.

"Odahviing! You can't eat him!" admonished Leara Rose-blade as she was joined by Bofur and Glóin in pulling at Thorin's feet. This was a bit hard as there were three of them and Thorin only had two legs

"Dragon! Spit Thorin Oakenshield out this instant!" Gandalf bellowed, appearing as if he'd grown ten feet tall.

To most people (especially Hobbits and dwarves) this was very intimidating and even threatening. Seeing as Odahviing was the size of a large hill, he just quirked an eyebrow, but spat Thorin out anyway.

Leara Rose-blade, Bofur, and Glóin leaped back several feet when Thorin flowed out of Odahviing's mouth in a thick river of saliva.

"That is so gross," Ori whispered.

"Ori!" exclaimed Dori. "Behave!"

"Uncle?" Fíli inquired, poking his uncle's dry left foot (the only dry part of him actually) with the toe of his boot.

"Greh!"

"He'll be fine!" Leara said, slapping both Fíli and Kíli on the back.

"May I ask why you did that?" Balin asked the red dragon.

Odahviing shrugged, "He irks me."

Balin nodded, deeming this a fitting answer.

Leara Rose-blade bent over the soaking wet Thorin.

"Hey, do you wanna get dried off?" she asked in gentle tones.

"Yeah," he whimpered.

"Oaky doky, then," the Dragonborn straightened up. "Everyone stand back."

Everyone — including the curious Gandalf, the worried Balin, and the bored Odahviing — stepped back about half a dozen paces.

Leara Rose-blade grinned at Thorin, who's eyes opened wide in horror at her demonic expression. Leara cleared her throat, adjusted her position, and, opening her mouth wide, she took a deep breath and...

"FUS RO DAH!"

Thorin, already on the ground, slammed hard against it, all traces of damp and wet dissipating in the fierce wind Leara had spat out.

"Leara..." Ulfric face palmed.

Fíli, Kíli, Balin, and Dwalin scrambled forward and pulled the dazed Thorin to his feet.

"Leara...stop being so dramatic," Ulfric pleaded as the Altmeri Heroine in question fist bumped one of Odahviing's talons.

"Hm? What was that, my dear boy?" Leara turned and smiled at him. Ulfric released a weary sigh.

Gandalf turned and stared off towards the east, almost as if he was staring at a chocolate fountain. He then turned to Leara as Thorin began to vomit all over Dwalin.

"Miss Rose-blade?" he spoke in a questioning manner.

"Oui, Monsieur Gandalf?" she queried, turning away from the chilled out Odahviing and the exasperatedly exasperated-as-crap Ulfric to face the Wizard.

Gandalf, despite all his shortcomings, understood French even though that language doesn't exist in Nirn or Arda. "Would you care to walk with me? I believe there's something important that should be tended to."

Leara Rose-blade nodded. "Ulfric, you're in charge."

"Yes!" the Jarl of Eastmarch cheered.

"No!" Thorin sobbed, vomiting, this time, on Fíli, who began to sob himself.

"Whatevs," Odahviing shrugged, rolling over and squishing a cake Bombur had been trying to make.

The wizard and the Altmer walked off, speaking about something in French (even though the language still doesn't exist there), leaving the group of fifteen sitting there.

"So...Jennifer Lawrence is hawt," Kíli said leaning against Odahviing. He clicked his tongue at the group and winked.

"Kíli...dude..." Fíli moaned, using Bombur's braided beard lasso thing to wipe off the partially digested soup from Bilbo Baggins's Hobbit hole.

"BLONDIE! SHUT UP!" Thorin screamed before spasming and slapping Fili in the nose.

"The CHEESE!" Fíli yelped, grabbing his throbbing red nose and jumping away from his nutty uncle.

"Mortals are so amusing," Odahviing chuckled. His body vibrated with the laughter, causing Kili to vibrate as well.

"Uh huh uh huh uh huh—" Kíli mumbled before tumbling flat on his face.

"Hark! Me thinks me see-eth a light forth with ahead!" Balin cried, pointing off into the distance.

And indeed, there was a light! In a grove of trees some two hundred, three hundred yards away to the north, there was a burning orange light, a fire, as it were.

"What do we do about it?" Dori asked, sipping a cup of chamomile he'd produced from out of nowhere.

"We..." Ulfric hesitated. "Oh!"

"Wha?" Dwalin asked, standing as far away from Thorin as possible and wiping his gunk covered face off with a strange plant (someone should tell him it's poison oak).

"We should send someone to see if there's anything worth plundering and pillaging and—"

"Yes, we get it," Bofur said loudly, nodding.

"But who?" Nori asked.

Everyone looked at Kíli.

"What? Why me?"

"Not you! Him!" Óin yelled.

Everyone looked at Odahviing.

"Surely you jest!"

"Not you! Him!" Glóin yelled.

Everyone looked at the tree above Odahviing's head.

"Drat and befuddle it all!" exclaimed one Mister Todd Reachfield of the city of Riften in the Rift (not to be confused with the Reach on the other side of the Falkreath Hold).

"Who are you?" Fíli asked.

"I—"

"This is Todd Reachfield. He thinks he is the Dragonborn when the Dragonborn is actually Kunokaaz," Odahviing explained, bored. "Reachfield is one of the senior members in the Circle of the Companions and Kunokaaz is a Mistress of the School of Destruction at the College of Winterhold. They do not get along."

"Hey, Big Guy, it's not my fault we had to destroy that summoned thingy one of her apprentices summoned in—"

"Shh, shh, shh, shh, shh!" Odahviing shushed him.

Todd was dumbstruck.

"Is he gonna go or what?" Dwalin asked.

Todd shifted in clear discomfort. "I don't normally do the sneaking side of an adventure."

"Then wadda'll we do?" Ori cried.

Everyone stood penchant for a moment before looking at Thorin, who was still covered in his own vomit and appeared to be quite out of it, mentally speaking.

·•*°*•·

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I'm going to make a habit of posting two chapters at once, but I think once a week — let's shoot for Friday's — should be good. That gives me...oh, a year or so to produce more so as to keep up with the updating. That should work. I think
> 
> I hope...
> 
> Anyway, Kunokaaz Peyttuz is Dovahzul, taken from Thu'um.org, literally meaning "Light [of the] Sea" / "Rose-blade". So, you know. The more you know.


	3. School House Troll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves go to investigate Balin's strange light and find out more than they bargained for. Literally.

_**Chapter Three — School House Troll** _

Five minutes later and two hundred yards, two feet, two inches, and a fourth of another inch away, three trolls sat eating dinner.

"I say, Sir Robert, this is a truly magnificent stew!"

"Why thank you, Sir Thomas! And this is quite the lovely cast iron pot in which to cook it in!"

"We mustn't forget our dear Sir William, who has invited us to his cave for this delightful party!"

"Oui! C'est bon, mon cher troll!" the greatly immense Sir William cried in the still-nonexistent French language, bowing to Sir Robert and to Sir Thomas.

Sir Thomas reached back to straighten his coat tails (made of only the finest fig leaves) only to be met with something very warm, hard, and tiny. "I say, whatever is this?" he inquired aloud, grabbing the warm, hard, and tiny thing and pulling it around to the front.

Fíli, in all his golden haired, lightly armored, and general blondness, gave him a Flynn Rider style smolder.

"Hi, how're y'all doin'?"

The three Gentle-Trolls looked aghast at each other.

"His grammar!"

"Tis preposterous!"

"Truly absurd!"

Fíli stared at them.

The three Gentle-Trolls stared back.

"FOR SPARTA!"

"THIS ISN'T SPARTA YOU FOOLISH DWARF!"

"SHUT UP BLONDIE!"

The obviously insane but still majestic Thorin Oakenshield and the true and sane High King of Skyrim Ulfric Stormcloak ran into the clearing waving their swords and arguing even as they charged the trolls. Behind them, Balin, Dwalin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, Ori, Glóin, Óin, and Kíli ran in after them, hollering and screaming about food, pastries, never ending hunger, and nutritious sustenance.

The three Gentle-Trolls stared as the twelve dwarves and one man started whacking their legs with their puny weapons.

"I say!"

"They're quite bothersome."

"Indeed."

Thorin puffed up his chest, took a deep breath, and in a deep and commanding voice, he spoke,

"Put that blond Casanova down right now!"

Ulfric, Dwalin, and Balin took the time to face palm. Well, Ulfric and Balin face palmed, Dwalin just started scratching his face where an angry red rash had started to form.

"Why ever should we listen to a group of uneducated ruffians and marauders such as yourselves?" Sir Thomas asked.

"Because I am the king!" Thorin and Ulfric said in unison.

They looked at each other.

"What? I'm the king! No! You aren't king! How dare you insinuate that I am not a king! I am a majestic king! I am a king fighting for my throne! What? You can't fight for your throne too! That's against the rules in the King's Handbook!" Back and forth Ulfric and Thorin went, arguing over their individual kingliness and such and so forth.

As they did this, the three Gentle-Trolls, ever in favor of higher education and civilized manners, took each of the dwarves (and Ulfric) and strapped them to uncomfortable desks with chains from which they would attempt to give each and every one of them an education worthy of Harvard,, Yale, Cambridge, Oxford, and other highly rated universities that don't exist in Arda or Nirn.

And when the party of fourteen realized they were trapped, it was too late for them to escape!

"We should not bother with roll calls and such, for the dawn isn't far in coming," Sir William advised.

"I surely do not fancy becoming a stone statue!" Sir Robert exclaimed, fearful.

"Of course you do not!" Sir Thomas shook his head. "They should — how do they say it? Ah, yes, they shall 'cram' tonight and tomorrow evening we shall give them an exam!"

"That would be — oh sweet gumdrop Nellie Sue!"

Sir Robert and Sir Thomas hastened to Sir William's side and together they pulled a rather short creature with curly brownish blonde hair, a red coat, a green waistcoat with brass buttons, and no shoes off of their friend's back

"I say!"

"What is it?"

"I do believe it would be informative to ask him!"

The three Gentle-Trolls nodded in joint agreement before looking once more at the creature.

"What, pray tell, are you, my good sir?"

"I'm a cosplayer."

"A what?"

"I'm Dr. John Watson." The Watsobbit looked rather bored.

"A doctor?"

"Wherever did you get your degree?"

"Do you mean a medical doctor or a science doctor?"

"Uh..." John Watson looked uncomfortable from where he dangled from the beefy fingers of Sir Thomas.

Suddenly, Todd Reachfield burst into the clearing.

"I have a degree on lycanthropy from Jorrvaskr!"

The dwarves all looked at each other.

The Gentle-Trolls all looked at each other.

Ulfric and Dr. Watson looked at each other.

"I have a degree on the Way of the Voice from High Hrothgar!" proclaimed Ulfric.

"I have a masters from Bree on toy making!" said Bofur.

"I have a doctorate in larceny from an inn in Dunland!" was Nori's addition.

"I have you all beat! I have a PhD in archery from the Golden Wood!"

Upon hearing this statement, Thorin kicked Kíli in the head. How he managed this while being chained to a desk, the Narrator isn't quite sure.

"I possess a bachelorette in Westron that some creepy lady in some shadowy inn gave me!"

"It's not called a bachelorette, Mr. Balin," Ori corrected.

"Ori!" exclaimed Dori. "Behave!"

Here after, the dwarves started spouting off different subjects they had degrees in. Including but not limited to: a masters on cooking from a rude Hobbit lady (this was Bombur), a doctorate in building from the Golden Hall of Edoras in Rohan (Glóin), an actual bachelors degree from Minas Tirith on hair dye (this one belonging to Dwalin), and a PhD on braiding hair from the Woodland Realm.

Thorin kicked Fíli as soon as he said that. Still not sure how.

Everyone stared at each other, again.

"They're rather fanciful, aren't they?"

"Quite."

"Indeed."

"DAWN IS BREAKING! GREAT THE NEW DAY!"

Everyone jumped as none other than Leara Rose-blade and Gandalf the Grey appeared, standing upon a giant boulder.

Or half a boulder, seeing as Gandalf had just broken it in half.

And they were both licking rather large ice cream cones.

But that's not the point.

The point is, the two had returned and proceeded to break a boulder which caused the early rays of dawn to pour over the three trolls.

"Why, who are they?" Sir Robert asked before turning to stone.

"I haven't an inkling," Sir Thomas shook his head in reply before turning into stone himself.

"Could we educate them too?" Sir William inquired before, at last, he turned to stone as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So fun fact, originally, chapters one through five were all together in what was supposed to be a really long one shot. Obviously it grew. I'm still writing this story and the end is...so...far...away... But anyway, that's why the description and style changes later on, as I moved away from the brevity of a (long) one shot parody and turned this into more of a fully fleshed out story. This whole project has grown with me over the last five years as I've developed in my writing and I think you can see that as the story progresses.
> 
> Now, it occurred to me that I should probably translate the French.
> 
> "Oui! C'est bon, mon cher troll!" — "Yes! It's good, my dear troll!"
> 
> That's roughly a third of what I know in French, so there you go. I hope y'all like John. I love Martin Freeman and if I was to write out Bilbo (why did I do that?), I had to have someone. Thus...the Watsobbit.


	4. Troll Horde 221b

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now freed, the Company goes in search of the trolls' lair.

_**Chapter Four — Troll Horde 221b** _

Everyone stared at the stone Gentle-Trolls and then at Gandalf and Leara and then their ice cream.

"Did you bring us some?" Bofur asked.

"Nope," Leara shot over her shoulder as she unlocked the chains holding Fíli, Kíli, Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin with one hand. "Your face is really weird looking," she told the itchy bald dwarf.

"Urgh..."

The Altmer and the Istar went around and freed the dwarves and Ulfric, and then Leara noticed Todd.

"Reachfield!"

"Rose-blade!"

The two growled before approaching each other, both tensed like a piece of barbwire.

"What are you doing here?" Leara Rose-blade demanded, getting in the Nord's face.

"If you must know, there is a rather large bounty on a mountain dwelling dragon, not including the untold riches he guards in those ancient mountain halls," Todd Reachfield snapped, flinging spit on Leara's face.

"That's my kill! As Dragonborn!" the she-elf cried, indignant. She stomped her foot for emphasis.

"Just because you can use the Voice and absorb the souls of dragons, doesn't mean you are the Dragonborn!"

"I'm pretty sure it does, you—"

Before Leara Rose-blade could finish her sentence by calling Todd Reachfield several rude names, Odahviing marched into the clearing and — and ate him.

The great red dragon had eaten the annoying werewolf.

The horned Dovah had eaten the string bean-like Nord.

The dragon who allied himself with the Dragonborn had eaten the leader of the puppy squad from Skyrim.

Leara blinked.

Odahviing coughed.

"He tastes like chicken," he coughed again.

"You think everything tastes like chicken," Leara Rose-blade reminded him, rolling her eyes.

Odahviing shook his massive horned cranium. "No, the chicken doesn't taste like chicken."

Balin walked over to them. "Then how do you know what chicken tastes like?"

"Because I am Od Ah Viing!"

Balin nodded, deeming this to be a satisfactory answer.

Meanwhile, some five and a half and three quarter yards away, give or take a foot or so, Gandalf was watching several different verities of wild fowl and birds alight atop the stone trolls, leaving quite the, eh, mess. Thorin approached him, looking quite out of sorts with dried puke all over the front of his clothes, sticks tangled in his majestic mane of luxurious, ebony colored locks, and goop from the Elmer's glue that had been on his desk all in his short little beard. Not half as epic as Gimli's beard, but seeing as he's not here and is, after all, only a kid at the moment by dwarven standards, we can't do a proper comparison on beards.

Moving on.

"These trolls couldn't have moved in daylight," Gandalf mused, munching on his ice cream cone.

"How do you get this goop out of hair?" Thorin asked, ignoring the now messy troll statues he was standing next to.

"There must be a cave nearby..."

"Good!" the disheveled oaken shield wielding fellow exclaimed. "Maybe they have hair products in there to take care of the abnormal, abysmal, abhorrently atrocious stuff in my majestic, miraculously marvelous mane of hair!"

Gandalf stared at him, dumbfounded, and a scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream fell from his cone to the ground. "Where ever did you learn such big, complicated words, Thorin Oakenshield?"

Thorin stared at him. "Wha?"

"Never mind," Gandalf shook his head. He then turned around...and spotted John Watson.

John Watson who was still dressed like Bilbo Baggins's identical twin brother, to be exact.

"My dear Mr. Baggins! It seems you have finally decided to join us!" Gandalf exclaimed, looking rather pleased and, dare the Narrator narrate it, smug.

Dr. Watson looked up at Gandalf, startled. "Oh, no, you have me mistaken for someone else, I'm—"

"You know, you're a little taller than I remember you being last evening," Gandalf mused, staring at the fidgety Watsobbit. He snapped his fingers and a small pink fire work went off a couple feet above the grey wizard's head. "I know! You did something with your hair!"

Dr. Watson gave him a bored (or blank or confused, he gets those mixed up) look. He then sighed. "Okay then, you people think I'm some three foot tall elf/dwarf hybrid called a Hobbit or halfling and, not only that, you think I'm the one who is supposed to steal things for you from a dragon who sounds like my flatmate."

Gandalf nodded affirmative.

Grumbling, Dr. Watson crossed his arms. "Fine! I'll help you! If I get a Chinese cat statue in return."

Gandalf nodded again. "Thorin, are there any Chinese cat statues in Erebor?"

The head dwarf shook his head, "No idea."

Dr. Watson shrugged, "Close enough."

Once they were all assembled together, everyone (minus Odahviing) trudged around for fifteen minutes searching for the troll cave/horde/place/thing.

And that was when they found it.

Within the heart of a cluster of boulders, dark and stinky, was the cave.

"You know, I hadn't expected it to be this disgusting," Ulfric mused, appearing thoughtful as he studied the entrance where flies were buzzing and little green fungi grew. It was totally gross.

"Trolls need a healthy amount of flies and fungi to thrive or else they'll shrivel up like dried out mushrooms," Leara Rose-blade explained, standing next to her blond sidekick.

Gandalf went up to the entrance and took a rather large whiff. He then proceeded to turn a rather unflattering shade of green as smoke shot out of his nostrils, ears, and mouth.

"Does...an...y....one...have...a...can...of...Feb...reze©?" he wheezed, coughing between each syllable.

Everyone started rummaging around in their pockets before Bifur pulled out a can of lavender scented air freshener.

"Thanks," Gandalf coughed, taking the can of Febreze© and spraying it like a madman into the cave.

Fifteen and a half minutes later...

"There! The can's empty and everything smells like flowers!"

"It's GIRL SCENTED!" Thorin screamed, forgetting, for the moment, about his ruined hair.

"Well I'm a girl so the scent should love me!" Leara Rose-blade grinned, striding into the now lavender scented cave. Ulfric hastened to follow and Fíli and Kíli, one blond and one ever ready to please the golden Altmer, bounced after them.

The remaining thirteen (eleven dwarves, a wizard, and a Watsobbit) stared after them before, after standing around looking stupid for a few minutes, running in after them.

Inside, Ulfric had found a Mûmikal tusk, Fíli and Kíli had found candy floss (the Narrator would advise not eating food from a troll cave, but they don't listen to the Narrator), and Leara Rose-blade had discovered—

"Swords! Of Gondola! From Italy! Wow!" she cried, holding up a sword with only one stick thingy on the spot between the handle and the blade.

Gandalf walked up to her and looked at the one with two stick thingies instead of one.

Cross-guard. They're called cross-guards.

"These were forged in Gondolin by the high elves of the First Age!"

"My kin?" Leara asked.

Gandalf shrugged.

Thorin walked over and Leara handed him the sword with one stick thingy.

"These swords were not made by any troll," he said, looking over the shiny silver sword.

"Dude!"

"We just established this!"

Thorin shrugged, not really caring. "Who made these bad mama jamas then?"

"These were forged by the high elves of the West, my kin," Leara Rose-blade explained. In all actuality, Leara's elven heritage came from her grandmother and she was of stout Altmer decent. No one knows if the Aldmeri of Aldmeris have any connection with the Noldor, Vanyar, or Teleri, but that's not why we're here today.

"You keep creeping me out with your continuous, spontaneous spouts of elven jibber jabber!" Thorin whined, voice void of majesty.

"Quit being such a drama queen!" Leara Rose-blade whined back.

Gandalf then whacked Thorin on the head with his staff...

"Ow-y!"

...and gave Leara a Hershey's© chocolate bar with almonds.

"Thank you!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...forgot..? I had ao3. Oops. Sorry. I'll just post two chapters at a time until we're caught up to the upload I have on FanFiction.Net.


	5. The Consequences of Dragon Social Media

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate Title: Who Gave the Dragon a Phone?  
> In which Ulfric's a ninny, John is mouthy, and something might be stalking them.

_**Chapter Five — The Consequences of Dragon Social Media** _

Meanwhile...!

Dr. Watson picked up a plastic blue letter opener.

"What the h*ll is this?!" he exclaimed.

Ulfric popped up and instantaneously back handed the cursing Watsobbit with the Mûmikal tusk.

"This is supposed to be rated a light PG with jokes that people over fifteen will kinda get and little kids won't understand!" Ulfric reprimanded.

"The video game you're from is rated 17+, this movie is PG-13, and my show isn't exactly Teletubbies," John reminded the blond Jarl.

"What's a 'video game'?" Ulfric asked, confused.

"It's complicated," the Watsobbit sighed.

"To answer your question, this is an elvish letter opener formerly belonging to Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower with which he used to open his fan mail!"

"Ah!"

Ulfric and Dr. Watson turned to see a strange short fellow with long messy hair (and matching beard) with birdie dodo in it dressed in a sweater vest and tweed pants. A battered Panama hat sat precariously on his head, birdie dodo sticking to the underside of the rim. In his hands he carried a woodland-ish-y staff that coincidentally doubled as an umbrella from the 1980s. Though, no one was sure if it was from Arnor in the 1980s of the Third Age, Lindon in the 1980s of the Second Age, or if it was from that odd decade in the First Era called 'the 1980s strawberry tart movement' in Tamriel.

Not to mention that Panama — just like France — doesn't exist in Arda or Nirn.

Much less a Panama hat!

"Radagast! Radagast VII 'the Brown'!" Gandalf exclaimed, coming forward out of the back of the cave with Leara Rose-blade and Thorin Oakenshield following. Thorin looked like he'd been hit by a rhino giving birth to a warg strangling a Uruk-Hai eating Alduin's foot. Leara, however, looked happy, with chocolate smeared on her faintly golden skin and an almond bit on her breastplate.

Gandalf, of course, had the sword with two stick thingies within easy reach on his belt. Thorin had the sword with only one stick thingy (and, subsequently, less hand-and-wrist protection) on his back. Where, if he drew it, it had the potential possibility to cut of his head or some of his hair.

Or his 'I am King' bead, signed by Elvis Presley.

Who knows what could happen if that was taken from his majestic head...

"I came to warn you, Gandalf."

"Warn me?"

"Yes, warn you."

"Warn me about what?"

"I came to warn you about a necromancer!"

"You came to warn me about a necromancer?"

"Yes, I came to warn you about a necromancer who may be Sauron but sounds kinda like Smaug on laughing gas."

"You came to warn me about a necromancer who may be Sauron but sounds kinda like Smaug on laughing gas?"

"Yes, I came to warn you about a necromancer who maybe Sauron but sounds kinda like Smaug on laughing gas who lives in Eryn Galen which everyone insists on calling Mirkwood and may be bringing back the Nazgûl because I found this sword kinda like the one that stabbed Lady Celebrían of Imladris."

"You came to warn me about a—"

"Yes!" Radagast interrupted him. "Now shut up, Gandalf!"

"Who's Sauron?" Fíli asked, twirling a blond strand of hair in his mustache between his fingers.

Everyone face palmed.

"Even I know who Sauron is!" Ulfric grumbled.

Leara yawned at Ulfric and he yawned back. She then scratched her pointy ear and he pretended to scratch a pointy ear on his head that wasn't there. She then whipped her magnificent Princess Ariel-like-long hair around. Ulfric tried — and failed — to do this.

"Loser," she snorted.

As they did this, Odahviing ambled into the clearing. "I think these wolf things ridden by mutated monkeys are chasing us."

"WHAT?!" everyone yelled. That would be eighteen-ish-y people, so it was rather (extremely) loud.

Just know that in the Golden Hall of Edoras, Fengel could hear them. In the White Tower of Ecthelion of Minas Tirith, Ecthelion heard them. In the White Gold Tower, Titus Mede II heard them. In Whiterun, Balgruuf the Greater heard them. In — let's just say everyone heard them.

Including the wargs and orcs who were currently hunting them.

"So," Gandalf began, putting on sunglasses from circa 1950s. Again, no one knows exactly which 1950s we're talking about. "One of you mortal fools spilled the semantics on our venture and—"

"Hold on," Leara Rose-blade said, raising a hand. She took out an Android© smartphone (which DEFINITELY doesn't exist but at this point, who cares?) and pulled up her latest notification.

[You were mentioned in a post by @SoulSlayerDragon13]

Leara Rose-blade's brow creased as she gazed down at the picture of Durnehviir chilling out while Balin, Dori, and Ori screamed, Nori stole Balin's cupcake (it was a nauseous shade of pink), and Dwalin clutched an orange teddy bear as they fell from the sky. She tapped the likes number, only to cringe when she saw that all of her own co-workers, plus nearly every dragon in Skyrim, had already liked the post. Scrolling a little more, she opened the caption, which read:

'A Quest to Reclaim a Homeland: Free Falling to the Trollshaws.'

"Durnehviir may have taken a picture and posted it on Instagram ©," Leara told the rest of the group.

Everyone looked at Odahviing.

Odahviing looked back.

"Hey, he's 'Curse Never Dying', I'm 'Snow Wing Hunter'. There's a vast difference."

Everyone nodded as this made sense.

"What do we do?" Thorin asked, freaking out over everything like a teenage girl.

Leara grabbed his hand.

Thorin looked at the elf.

Leara looked at the dwarf.

"Run!"

The rest watched as the two scrambled off together out of the clearing around the troll cave.

"The other way," Gandalf directed, seeing as the two were running back toward the Shire.

Leara and Thorin scrambled back through, this time heading for the rocky plains and the Misty Mountains 'cold'.

"They're gonna get killed!" wailed Kíli, already pining away for his hero, the Dragonborn.

"Not if I cause — A DIVERSION!" Radagast cried, pointing his umbrella staff into the air.

"Those are Gundabad wargs! They'll outrun you!" Gandalf reminded his friend, growing quite worried.

"These are Rosie-go-bell bunnies," Radagast told him, pointing to a group of a dozen rabbits harnessed to a sled. "I'd like to see them try!"

Gandalf looked back to the rabbits, now numbering twenty three. He nodded in agreement. "Good luck, mi amigo," he said, clasping the other wizard's hand briefly.

Radagast touched the tip of his Panama hat in farewell before going to his bunny slay, now being pulled by forty five bunnies.

"Get along lil' bunnies!" the strangely clad wizard ordered before being pulled off by eighty nine rabbits.

"That, that is bull—"

Ulfric hit Dr. Watson with the Mûmikal tusk, again. "Child friendly production!"

The Watsobbit grumbled.

"Now what do we do?" Dwalin asked.

"We run," Odahviing and Gandalf said in unison.

However, Odahviing did not run, he took to the skies, flying higher and higher until he was just a red blimp in the sky.

The twelve dwarves, the wizard, the Jarl, and the Watsobbit ran like crazy and eventually caught up with the harried Dragonborn and screaming Thorin Oakenshield, who was becoming less and less majestic by the minute.

"We need to head for the Hidden Valley!" Gandalf yelled at the group at large.

"How do we find it if it's hidden?" Leara Rose-blade asked.

"Well..."

"GANDALF!"

"Hold on!"

In the distance, Radagast could be seen skidding around with some three hundred fifty three-ish rabbits being chased by giant mutated puppy dogs being ridden by grotesque creatures.

"Those are...orcs?" Leara and Ulfric cried, wide eyed.

"Yes!" Bofur yelled back.

"I don't think great-aunt Mazoga would approve," Leara told Ulfric, who nodded.

"Your great aunt is an ORC?!" Thorin squawked.

"Well, she and my grandma were friends."

Thorin started crying.

"Uncle Thorin! Shut up!" Fíli exclaimed, stuffing a sweaty gym sock into his uncle's mouth as the group huddled together under a rock to hide.

"Why are we hiding?" Ori asked.

"Ori!" exclaimed Dori. "Behave!"

Unfortunately, Dori's exclamation, though (not really) good natured, alerted the orcs and wargs to the groups' presence.

Well, they would've found them anyway.

"BLEH! BLOO! BLEE! BLAH!" the orcs screamed, charging towards them like jousters on ponies.

But orcs are not jousters and wargs are not ponies (bright pink or otherwise) and thus, this was gonna get real messy.

"This way, you blundering idiots!"

Everyone looked around to find that John Watson was standing in front of a steep hole in the ground.

"Oh, you've found the Hidden Pass!" Gandalf giggled giddily, providing us with an unneeded alliteration and a weird mental image of him giggling like a girl.

"Run!" Leara and Thorin screamed, still clutching at each other's hands.

"Are they dating or something?" Bofur inquired.

"I don't think her aunt would be too pleased," Ulfric shook his head and glared at...everyone.

"RUN!"

"BLEH!"

"GET OUTTA THE WAY!"

"BLOO!"

"DEAR AKATOSH'S SAGGY Y-FRONTS!"

"BLEE!"

"MOTHER!"

"BLAH!"

"WHERE IS MY GUN?"

"BLEH!"

"WHAT THE OBLIVION IS A 'GUN'?"

"BLOO!"

"KATE UPTON IS HAWT!"

"BLEE!"

"KÍLI! SHUT YER TRAP!"

"BLAH!"

And everyone fell head over heals, up and over and down into the Hidden Pass.

"Ow," everyone said in unison.

"That went swimmingly," cheered Fíli, earning another well aimed kick from Thorin.


	6. Interlude in Imladris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Company finally arrives in Rivendell. Chaos ensues.

After a moment, everyone got up and looked around. They ignored the sounds of fire and girlish screaming and epic yelling and Odahviing's Thu'um attacking the orcs and wargs as they started walking down the passage. After what felt like forever and after everyone had been elbowed to the point of bruising by everyone else's elbows and a few knees, they found themselves stepping out on a rocky hill overlooking a valley of ethereal beauty, waterfalls, and the kind of delicate structures you'd expect to find in a book of fairy tales.

"It's so...pretty!" Leara sighed, gazing out over the valley.

"Bloody elves," Ulfric spat, evidently not as taken with the place as his officer.

"No! I thought I said no side trips to elven havens!" Thorin whined, stomping his foot with notably less majesticalness then normal.

"Thorin Oakenshield! Lord Elrond is, by far, the wisest and most authoritative elf lord in Middle-earth!" exclaimed Gandalf, who had by now had it up to the tip of his pointy nose with the dwarf king's childishness.

"Who put him in charge?" Thorin sniffed.

"High King Gil-galad!" said Dr. Watson.

"How'd'ya know that?" Leara Rose-blade asked.

"I, uh, I read it in a book somewhere," the Watsobbit shrugged.

At this, the Dragonborn squealed. "Oh! I've read many things in books! According to one, my uncle once impersonated the Daedric Prince of Knowledge to cause another ancestor of mine to go mad!"

"How...lovely," John Watson coughed, pulling at his jacket collar.

Obviously, we now know from which side of the family or, more accurately, from which family member Leara Rose-blade got her, hmm, lovely personality.

"Your weird blabbing does not tell me why we need this all powerful Elrond fellow!" Thorin cried, stomping his feet like a five year old.

Leara petted his head in sympathy.

"We need him to read the map!" Gandalf told him, his exasperation mounting.

"Map? What map?" Ulfric asked, stepping closer to where Leara Rose-blade, Gandalf, and Thorin stood huddled together.

"Well, not this one for sure," Leara told him, pulling out a weathered map of Skyrim. Several places were marked besides the cities — Windstad Manor, High Hrothgar, and the College of Winterhold among others — and a few scribbled notes in mixed Cyrodilic and Altmeris. Such as 'get larger fireplace in Hall of Countenance chamber', 'have Valdimar get a goat', 'barrow Uncle Sheo's strawberry tart recipe', and...weirder things.

"How long have you been using that?" Nori asked, staring at the worn paper.

Leara screwed up her face in thought before shrugging. "Some three even years or so. I've had it ever since I grabbed it from a shelf in the Helgen Keep when I was escaping a dragon attack when they were gonna try and kill me for trying to get to work from Cyrodiil," she explained.

"Cyrodiil?" Balin asked.

"My grandfather's homeland," Leara Rose-blade clarified, smiling as if lost in a fond memory.

Gandalf then cleared his throat, the mushy reminiscing making his manly wizardness feel threatened. "We must hurry to the House of Elrond."

"We're not in danger though, right? We can have a bit of a rest, can't we?" Dr. Watson asked.

"They have food and girls—"

Almost instantly, the dwarves, Ulfric, and John Watson started running for the bridge to the elven city of Rivendell.

Thorin, Gandalf, and Leara Rose-blade stared after them.

"They're awful fast, aren't they?" Leara scratched her head in contemplation as she stared after the fourteen fellows.

"Yep," Thorin gave a vigorous nod in agreement.

The Istar, the Altmer, and the (debatably) majestic dwarf king began to trudge down the hill and over the bridge, all the way to Elrond's house.

Soon, the seventeen members of Leara Rose-blade and Co., formerly called Thorin Oakenshield and Co., stood in front of a long stone staircase guarded on either side by two tall stone elven warriors.

"Oh yes, much cooler then Alinor or Firsthold," Leara nodded in approval.

"Hiiiiii Gandalf!"

The grey wizard jumped ten feet into the air before toppling back down in a heap of robes.

"Lindir! Don't do that!" Gandalf scolded. Lindir shrugged, beaming with a childlike innocence. "Where's Lord Elrond?"

"He's hunting."

"Hunting what?"

"Mutated monkey."

"Why?"

"Apparently King Thranduil's moose—"

"Elk."

"—elk is allergic."

"Ah," Gandalf nodded in understanding. "I see. When do you suppose he'll be back?"

Lindir shrugged again.

"Look, I was told there was food and girls at this shindig, where are they?" Dwalin demanded through still swollen lips, earning a disgusted look from everyone except Balin and Kíli. Balin because he was his brother and a general nice person and Kili because he was giggling and laughing at him instead.

"Uh, the Lady Undómiel is visiting her grandpa in the Golden Wood," Lindir said, quirking an eyebrow at the group, "and all the other elf maids are at a party in Mirkwood."

"Dang," Balin, Dwalin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, Dori, Nori, Ori, Fíli, Kíli, Óin, Glóin, Ulfric, and John Watson said together. It was drawn out and sad.

"No fraternizing with elves!" Thorin yelled at them in reproof.

"Ah, Thorin Oakenshield. We thought that you'd be coming," Lindir sighed.

"Did you hear his complaining all the way from the Shire?" Leara Rose-blade asked, walking up to stand near Lindir.

The minstrel stared at the tall she-elf with reddish brown hair and faintly golden skin.

He blinked.

Leara blinked.

"Well?" the Dragonborn demanded.

"I..." Lindir gulped.

"He's twitterpated," Ori whispered to Dori.

"Ori!" exclaimed Dori. "Behave!"

Ignoring the youngest and oldest of the Ri brothers, Lindir cleared his throat in an attempt to answer the romantically oblivious Leara Rose-blade. "I...no, we uh, we saw your party exiting the pass."

"Brilliant!" Leara grinned and Lindir's cheeks tinged scarlet.

Suddenly, a loud chopping, windy noise filled the air and everyone looked up to see a bright sky blue helicopter pass by overhead to make its descent. On the side in big and squiggly gold letters was written, 'The Star Dome Copter'.

"Ah, here is Lord Elrond now," Lindir clapped his hands, looking away from the squirming high elf.

"Who's flying that?" the Watsobbit asked, frowning as he tried to get a better look at the helicopter.

"That would be Lord Glorfindel."

Everyone watched as the helicopter landed on a hitherto unnoticed helicopter parking pad and two elves got out. One was blond with a blue jumpsuit and golden boots, gloves and belt, all of which made him look like the Vault Boy from Fallout. This was, obviously, Lord Glorfindel, to whom the blue plastic letter opener now in the possession of Dr. Watson once belonged. The second was a dark haired elf with kaki colored pants and shirt. Kinda like a game hunter in Africa, though instead of a gun he had a sword. Between them they carried a cage with an incapacitated monkey thing inside.

"Ah, Lindir, excellent! Take the monkey and put it at Thranduil's favorite entrance way. That should keep him out for a while," Lord Elrond told the minstrel, who nodded. He took the cage and hurried off, sparing Leara Rose-blade one last look. Glorfindel rushed back to shut down his helicopter as Elrond turned to speak to Gandalf. "Ah! Mellon nîn!"

"Did he just say watermelon ninny?" Ulfric asked.

"No idea," Leara shrugged.


	7. Recaps at Rivendell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner doesn't go quite as Lord Elrond hoped. Neither does anything else...

Ignoring the rude whispering of Leara and Ulfric, Gandalf and Elrond continued speaking.

"Why are you trying to keep Thranduil out?" Gandalf asked, curious.

Elrond grimaced. "He keeps stealing from Arwen's vanity."

Gandalf nodded in complete understanding. "Indeed, I see how that can be destressing for her."

"The thing is, he keeps getting pink glitter everywhere."

"Oh dear."

"Wait, pink glitter? I love pink glitter!" Leara beamed, butting her way into their conversation.

Elrond stared at her.

"Averin?"

"Ah, no, that's my grandmother."

"Married that mortal king, did she?"

"Emperor, actually, yeah, er...sorta."

Elrond nodded, "She was always a bad influence on Arwen."

Leara shrugged, "My aunt would probably agree."

"Is that the one who sent Paarthurnax that sweater?" Ulfric asked.

"Yep."

Thorin scowled at the two elves, the wizard, and the tall blond person he didn't like. He turned around and began whispering to Dwalin, who nodded and whispered to Nori, who whispered to Kíli, who whispered to Ori, who whispered to Bifur, who gestured at Bofur, who whispered to Óin, who spoke 'quietly' to Dori, who whispered to Glóin, who whispered to Bombur, who whispered to Balin, who whispered to Fíli.

Thorin looked at the short blond person he didn't like (though not as much as he didn't like Storm-dress-what's-his-face) and Fíli stared back.

They stared at each other for a moment before Thorin nodded and Fíli nodded in return. The young blond dwarf then turned to where Lord Elrond and Leara Rose-blade were talking about an amulet, a temple, and a fancy sword.

He then proceeded to take a deep, deep, oxygen enriched breath.

"Uncle Thorin requests that you all quit being nancy cats and just be cute and cuddly, boys, CUTE AND CUDDLY!"

Thorin Oakenshield shook his head from embarrassment, his original dwarvish insult having been completely distorted amongst the Company and outright lost to Fíli the Not as Cool as His Uncle.

Everyone stared at Fíli, then Thorin, then Fíli, then Thorin, then Fíli, then Thorin...

And Fíli again.

And Thorin once more.

And—

"But," protested Ori and Leara Rose-blade in sync. "I am cute and cuddly!"

Dori and Ulfric face palmed in retaliation.

"I'm just a hedgehog," Dr. Watson sighed in dejection.

"I am a majestical idiot of an Alaskan sled dog!" added Kíli, attempting to be as valiant as he thought Leara Rose-blade to be, but really he just came off as a hipster bandwagon movement.

Everyone's gaze shifted to the youngest of the line of Durin.

"So," Elrond said, straightening his African game hunter like jacket. "Would anyone like BBQ pork?"

"BBQ PORK?!"

Moving faster than they had when Gandalf first mentioned girls and food, all the dwarves, plus Ulfric, rushed away up toward the grand House of Imladris, leaving Lord Elrond, Gandalf, Leara Rose-blade, and the Watsobbit standing there to bite at their dust.

"Thank the Divines Galmar isn't here," Leara said to the silence.

Just then, Glorfindel came back from his precious helicopter (preeeccciiiooouuusss...), he opened his mouth to speak, and then...stopped. He stood there like a giant statue of a human fish, drawing the gazes of most of the remaining people on the platform.

"Is he okay?" Dr. Watson asked in an aside to Lord Elrond.

The half elven studied his friend and then at the object of his viewage.

Leara Rose-blade.

Who happened to be looking miserable at her abandonment via Jarl of Eastmarch.

Gandalf was quick to catch on to this as well. The three males not taken with the manic beauty of Leara watched as Glorfindel continued to practice his improv fish face on the Dragonborn. Meanwhile, said Dragonborn hunched her shoulders and dragged her feet toward the stone stairs that her friend had rushed up previously.

Glorfindel's eyes followed the Altmer as she ascended the steps. Once she disappeared at the top, he shook his head before looking around, dazed. The golden elf's gaze fell on the unimpressed Elrond and he smiled as if none have that had even happened.

"Do we still have that barbeque pork?"

Elrond scowled, he liked it when people said 'BBQ' instead of 'barbeque', but he nodded in the affirmative anyway. "Yes, though if I were you, I would hurry. Gandalf's party just went to the dining hall."

Glorfindel bobbed his head before skipping up the stairs after Leara and the boys.

"Are all the single elf guys going to stare at Leara like that?" Dr. Watson asked.

Elrond and Gandalf both paled and looked at each other.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I believe so."

"Then you must make sure neither Prince Legolas nor King Thranduil nor any Woodland elf meets Lady Leara, because I fear if they do, they will become obsessive and transfixed," Elrond told Gandalf. The wizard brought out his pipe and puffed at it in worry.

Fifteen minutes later...!

Everyone was miserable.

Except Leara, but that should go without saying.

Currently, as the population of Rivendell apparently consisted of only one female and many, many, many single elf dudes, who were single because all the married ones (except Lord Elrond) had followed their wives, who had gone to some party in Smirkwood with all the single ladies, Leara was the center of their attention.

Our beloved heroine, ever romantically oblivious, was nonetheless happy to be treated as her ancestors, the emperors and empresses of the Septim Empire, had. She also really loved apples. Everyone else though, was, as said beforehand, miserable.

Of course, they had their BBQ pork, but they weren't waited on hand and foot with constant dedication and given desserts and had music played for them.

In essence, if the Narrator had to put it into perspective, they were common, though generally kinda liked peasants in the light of Her Royal Madness, Empress Leara Septim.

"So how was your trip so far?" Elrond asked Gandalf, ignoring the awestruck elf dudes and the moody dwarves.

"Well, we met up in the Hobbit hole of Mr. Bilbo Baggins in the Shire. We had just concluded our dinner when Miss Rose-blade arrived. Unfortunately, this seemed to set Mr. Baggins off and he kicked us all out. We were then joined Miss Rose-blade's friend, Ulfric Stormcloak, who informed us of Miss Rose-blade's rather interesting history as a dragon slayer of legend. Presently, we realized that we had no horses or ponies and Miss Rose-blade used her Thu'um — her power over the dragon tongue — to summon three dragons who she allies herself with. They all have quite impressive names, all sounding much mightier than Smaug's. Paarthurnax, Durnehviir, and Odahviing, I believe they are all called. They carried us upon their backs all the way to the Trollshaws. However, at that point, two of the dragons left us rather abruptly. Apparently there was a timer on a batch of a confectionary called a Sweetroll, so we were left with the red dragon Odahviing. As it turns out, Odahviing is the elder brother of Smaug!"

"Who'da thunk it?" Elrond said in surprise.

"Yes! Anyway, Miss Rose-blade and I left the group to scout ahead after the dragon Odahviing attempted to eat Thorin Oakenshield for being a pest. She explained to me that her dragon blood allows her to wield the Thu'um as she does. The dragon blood is something her family has had for many generations, though the actual ability to use the Voice, as mortals call it, has been dormant since her ancestor, Tiber Septim, who first became emperor of her homeland. After that conversation, and getting ice cream from a vendor near the last bridge, we returned to discover our companions had been force educated by Gentle-Trolls from the Ettenmoors. Luck was on our side, however, and we were able to break a boulder and cast the trolls into sunlight, subsequently turning them to stone. Afterwards, I discovered that Mr. Baggins had indeed followed us!" Gandalf gestured to where the Watsobbit sat on the other side of Lord Elrond, the expression on his face showing anything but amusement.

Elrond looked at the Watsobbit, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Dr. John Watson was most certainly not a Hobbit, but there was little Elrond knew he could do to persuade Gandalf otherwise. Only the Lady Galadriel could, and she most likely wouldn't because she would find it endearing and amusing.

"Once we freed the dwarves and Miss Rose-blade's friend, Mr. Stormcloak, we found the troll horde where we found swords of Gondolin!" Gandalf went on in excitement.

Leara started, almost upsetting her apple juice and apple pie with ice cream. Lucky for her, Erestor managed to straighten them out.

"Elves of Gondolin? They are my kin," Elrond nodded as Gandalf showed him the sword with two stick thingies. "This is Glamdring, the Foe Hammer."

"Thorin's only has one stick thing," Leara snickered.

The Narrator would again like to reiterate that the stick thingies are called cross-guards.

Elrond raised an eyebrow and looked at the sword on Thorin Oakenshield's back. He nodded again. "That is Orcrist, the Cheese Cleaver."

"Are you my cousin?" Leara Rose-blade asked Elrond, after swallowing a bite of pie fed to her by Glorfindel.

"No," was the half elven's short answer.

The last thing he wanted was to be related to an oblivious, golden skinned female semi Boromir (though he, like everyone else, does not know who Boromir is as he has of yet to be born) and to share her elf dude attracting genes.

That'd get awkward.

Quickly.

Elrond decided then that he needed to call Celebrían in Valinor after lunch to tell her he feared why all the young elf dudes kept throwing themselves at Arwen's feet.


End file.
